Lucas's long, slender fingers rested effortlessly on the black steering wheel, his hands exuding a calm, controlled strength. Claire sat quietly beside him, casting cautious glances at his sharp profile, mesmerized by the way his strong jawline cut a perfect silhouette from his ear down to his chin. She quickly looked away, a strange feeling of pity stirring in her chest.
*How unfair*, she thought. A man as handsome as Lucas shouldn't have to deal with something like… that. He must be devastated. After all, what man could truly accept such a condition, especially one so accomplished and proud? She wondered if his cold demeanor was simply a mask, a way to protect his deeply-rooted pride. The mask that kept her at arm's length.
She had just begun to sigh when she felt his intense gaze slide toward her, making her heart skip. Flustered, she quickly looked away, her hands nervously fidgeting with her résumé, the faint rustling filling the silence.
"I didn't ask you to get in the car just to stare at my face," he drawled, the amusement in his voice unmistakable. Claire's cheeks flushed crimson.
*Alright, so maybe she had stolen a look. But did he have to call her out on it?*
"You studied marketing, didn't you?" he asked, raising a brow at her unconvincing attempt to look disinterested.
"Yes, Mr. Zeller," she replied, still facing the window.
Lucas's brow twitched, and he shot her a sidelong glare. His lips pressed together, fighting the growing irritation that tugged at him every time he heard that name.
*Mr. Zeller.* She called his mother "Mom" with ease, yet insisted on addressing him as if he were a stranger. After last night, after her clingy embrace in bed, she had the audacity to act so distant?
"Tell me, Miss Grace, what's your understanding of cosmetics?" he retorted.
*Cosmetics?* Claire blinked, her eyes filled with confusion.
"Miss Grace, don't tell me you don't know that Zeller Corp primarily focuses on cosmetics?" he continued, a touch of mockery in his tone.
"Uh… heh," she laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of her neck. To be honest, her familiarity with cosmetics was limited to knowing the basics. She rarely used them herself, and her "knowledge" of the field barely extended beyond the phrase, "Less is more."
One look at her blank expression was enough for Lucas. It didn't take a genius to see that she had almost zero familiarity with cosmetics.
"You'll start at the ground level in the company," he said in a clipped tone, "and once you've grasped the basics of the industry and operations, we'll see about other opportunities. Also—" He turned to her, his gaze becoming deadly serious. "Don't assume that me allowing you to work at the company means I have… personal interests. That's absolutely out of the question."
Claire's face fell as the words hit her. Did he even realize how harsh that sounded?
"Yes, I understand, Mr. Zeller," she replied quietly, feeling a small sting in her chest. Couldn't he see how much his words hurt?
Lucas clenched his jaw. *Mr. Zeller, Mr. Zeller!* The title grated on his nerves every time she used it.
"Just to be clear," he added coldly, "I don't like you. So don't get any ideas. And keep your wandering eyes to yourself."
So it came down to that, again. Was he still bothered by her quick glance? For the first time, Claire found him… insufferable. She had half a mind to shout in his ear just to vent her frustration.
"And one more thing."
What now? She braced herself, her ears primed for another cutting remark. He paused for what felt like an eternity before finally speaking.
"Don't treat my… condition… as some company-wide headline. Or else—" He left the sentence unfinished, but the look he gave her said it all.
Claire rolled her eyes dramatically. *Did he think she was some sort of walking radio station?*
"Yes, *Mr.*—"
"Get out!" he cut her off before the words could fully leave her mouth, the very sound of that title making his blood boil. "We're here."
She gave a resigned shrug, seeming unfazed by his outburst, and opened the door to step out of the car.